


Healing His Shadows

by mangomoon



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Healer, Hispanic Reader, Latina Reader, No Smut, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Reader has abilities, Reader-Insert, infinity war and endgame NEVER HAPPENED
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24041722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangomoon/pseuds/mangomoon
Summary: Due to your healing powers, you've been hired as the official medic for the Avengers. From your first meeting with a certain metal-armed hero, you're head over heels. Will you be able to get over the fear of losing your job as well as the fear of rejection? Will the two of you stop dancing around your feelings?Please do not copy my work without my express permission, or repost it anywhere else.WHILE THE READER IS LATINA, I DIDN'T WANT TO ISOLATE ANYONE! SO WHILE CERTAIN WORDS WILL BE USED AND FOOD MADE, ETC. ANYONE FROM ANY BACKGROUND CAN READ THIS STORY AND HOPEFULLY RELATE TO IT.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 41
Kudos: 61





	1. At First Sight

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is going to be a little shorter, but the next ones are longer! Just want the reader and Bucky to meet!

The first time he saw you, he thought you were a dream. There you stood, in the infirmary on the compound, laughing and smiling with Bruce. 

Steve and Sam were quick to point out his staring, laughing and teasing him. A blush spread to his cheeks as you glanced up through the window at the movement and made eye contact with him. 

A smile. The smallest, shyest smile. But you gave him one. His heart did a backflip and that was it. Bucky was head over heels for you.

* * *

"Everyone, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She's going to be our onsite medic from now on," Tony said, gesturing to you beside him, "Anything you'd like to say?" Tony asked you.

As you looked up, you made eye contact with the Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, the man you had crushed on back in school, the way every girl back then had a crush on either the famous Captain or his friend. A blush came over your cheeks but you hoped your hair would hide it.

"Hi everyone," you gave a small wave which immediately felt stupid, but the messy-haired teenager in the back returned it with a smile, "like Tony said, I'm Y/N. I'm twenty-seven, I'm half-Dominican, half-Puerto Rican. I hate introductions and I can be really shy, so I promise I'm not stuck up."

Though you felt intimidated by the massive superheroes around you, looking up you saw all of them smiling at you, "Well, speaking for me and Wanda, I can say we're glad to have another woman around here," Natasha said, giving you a grin.

"Okay, I'll let those two show you to your room," Tony said. "We're happy to have you here."

As you were led out by Natasha and Wanda, you could feel ice-blue eyes following you, and you only wished you could turn around to look at the sergeant one more time.

* * *

He hadn’t gotten up the courage to meet you, the new doctor Tony had just hired. And he hadn’t been injured since you had arrived, much to his chagrin. But finally on a mission, he was shot. He had never been so happy to be shot. 

As soon as the quinjet touched down on the compound, he had Steve help him to the infirmary where you sat, reading a book quietly. As soon as he walked through the doors, blood pouring through his hand from where he held the wound, you were up.

“Is the bullet still in him?” You asked Steve, who nodded. Quickly, you grabbed a pair of tweezers and looked him in the eye, “This is going to hurt.”

Without waiting for his response, you quickly located the bullet (which hadn’t gone in too deep) and pulled it out. Bucky winced but didn’t make a sound and waited for you to begin cleaning the wound, repairing the damage, and stitching him up. But you did none of that. Instead you simply laid your hands on the wound. Bucky’s eyes widened as he felt the wound begin to heal. Within a few seconds it was as if he had never been shot in the first place.

“Thank you, Dr. Y/L/N,” he said, going for his signature grin that used to make all the girls in Brooklyn swoon.

“It’s just Y/N. I’m no doctor, just a healer with some talents,” you smiled at him again, wiping his blood off your hands. 

“Bucky Barnes,” he replied.

Steve watched as the two of you looked at each other, each of you obviously enamoured with the other. But the moment quickly dissipated as Clint stumbled into the infirmary, whining.

“Nat gave me a paper cut and it hurts! Y/N, please fix it!”

You rolled your eyes, turning away from Bucky and to the baby of an Avenger, “Clint, when you were stabbed the other day, you were completely fine. In fact, you were laughing with Tony. So why can’t you deal with a paper cut?”

“It hurts!” 

Sighing, you grabbed his finger and the wound quickly closed over, bringing a smile of relief to Clint’s face, “You are an angel. You have saved my life and I will make sure my children thank you every night.”

When Clint had left, you looked up, hoping to get a moment to talk to Bucky. But he was gone.

  
  



	2. Ninteenbop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Video games and how some suck at them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapters two and three were originally one big one, which is why this one is a little bit shorter, since I decided to split them up

You were terrible at video games. In fact, you were so bad, even Steve and Bucky were able to easily beat you. When Peter had come to visit, bringing with him his Ninteenbop Switch or whatever (Bucky couldn't remember all of these newfangled gadgets), a grin had spread to your lips.

But now you sat on the couch, screaming as you lost, “Wario cheats! He cheats!”

Peter simply laughed at your predicament, watching you play, “No, you just suck.”

Turning to him with a glare, he quickly paled as you threw a pillow at his face and then began to wrestle with him on the couch, “Take it back Parker! Take it back, _puto_!”

“Never!” He laughed.

You had quickly charmed everyone at the compound, finding a way to bond with every person. Breakfast and a run with Natasha in the morning, cooking with Wanda, dumb jokes with Sam, Internet culture with Peter, the arts with Steve, and had even managed to wiggle your way into Bucky’s life.

Every night you would offer him a cup of hot chocolate and conversation before you both headed off to bed. The topics ranged from how vegetables had feelings (you were adamant they did, Bucky thought you were insane) to how the Trix rabbit deserved to eat that cereal (Bucky found himself agreeing with you and helped you send a letter to the cereal brand). Even though you gave him this time every night, he couldn’t deny that seeing you mess around with Parker, even if you were just playing, made his jaw clench and his fists curl up.

You finally gave up on the Ninteenbop when you lost at a game called Cuphead for the seventeenth time. Standing up and walking away, you cursed so loudly and so crudely that it made even Steve and Bucky (no strangers to cursing due to the Army) blush. Curses that would have made your mother beat you with a chancleta.

“I’m done. I give up,” you wander over to the kitchen counter, where Bucky, Steve, and Sam sit on stools, having watched you fail for the last half hour.

You sit on the stool next to Bucky, leaning your head on his shoulder, “I’m so sad. Fix it!”

He looks down on you, a smirk on his face, “Sorry darlin’, you’re just really bad.”

Looking up at him, your eyes narrow, “Take it back, Barnes.”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’, silently hoping you’ll play with him like you did with Peter.

“Fine then, if that’s how you want to play it,” you sit there quietly for a second, before turning to him, “Bucky, you angel?”

He turns to you, “Will you get me some water?” You coo.

Nodding, he gets up and starts to walk towards the fridge when you stand up and leap on his back like a spider monkey.

“Take it back!”

He spins around, trying to get you off, as Steve and Sam cackle. Sam laughs so hard, he falls to the floor, tears in his eyes.

“Y/N, get off of me!” Bucky yells, but he’s laughing.

Bucky swings around, accidentally knocking you onto the floor. You sit on your butt, stunned, right next to a still howling Sam.

“I’m not gonna heal you for a month now Barnes,” you pout from the floor, “you can just suffer.”

“No, doll, please!” Bucky pretends to beg as you stand up and head for the living room.

He sweeps you up, “I’m sorry darlin’”

Looking up at him, you smile, “Okay, you are forgiven.”

He sets you gently on the couch and you try not to think about his hands on your back as he carried you, his strong muscles flexing. You try not to look after him, knowing you can’t risk your job for something that’s never going to happen.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, that was a Brooklyn Nine-Nine reference. Noice!
> 
> I truly agree with the Trix cereal stance. That rabbit deserves better and those children in the commercials are assholes.
> 
> Also, to all my fellow Latinxs out there, we all remember the chancleta, the wooden spoon, or the bare hand. I salute you and I hope you stay safe, cause we're never too old for our mothers to beat our asses.
> 
> Translation:  
> puto=in this context it basically means bitch


	3. Poker Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's team game night, and you are prepared to crush the competition.

“Game night!” Tony called, coming into the living room. While Peter was at home, studying for a test, and Bruce was in the lab running some experiments, everyone else sat in either the living room or kitchen.

“No Tony. I have sworn off video games,” you said, “Or rather, Bruce told me I should stop playing due to my stress levels.”

Sam laughed at this but was cut off by a punch from you.

“Don’t worry Y/N. You may suck at video games due to a complete lack of coordination–”

“I am very coordinated, asshole!” You said, sitting up to stick out your tongue and then falling backwards off the couch.

“–but we’re going old school. Board games and cards. I feel like you deserve a chance to win.”

Rolling your eyes you stood up from the floor, using Bucky’s thigh as leverage. He felt his face get hot and prayed no one was looking right at him, “Fine, but I am going to crush everyone.”

* * *

Bucky was sure you must have sacrificed a skill at video games for skills at board and card games, because you hadn’t lied. You were crushing everyone.

“What am I going to tell Pepper?” Tony mumbled, his head in his hands, “I’ve lost everything! All my money, everything!”

“C’mon Tony. You lost!” You crowed.

You, Tony, Sam, Natasha, and Bucky were all sitting around the kitchen table, playing Monopoly, “Tony, we all did it. Just declare bankruptcy. It’s okay.” Natasha said, patting his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry little guy. I tried,” Tony whispered to the racecar piece in his hand, “I’m bankrupt. Y/N, you win.”

Cheering, you stood up and did your happy dance, a little wiggle that made Bucky heart do so many flips he was worried for his health.

But it wasn’t just Monopoly that you dominated. Playing Sorry against Bucky, Wanda, and Natasha, you were all too happy to sarcastically declare, “ _Sorry!_ ”and send them back to home.

At Scrabble against Vision, Tony, and Steve, Bucky watched you from across the room as you finally won, collecting the most points, “How did you beat Vision?” Tony asked, bewildered, “He’s an android, basically a computer, he should be able to easily win!”

“I don’t know what to tell you Tony, I’m just a genius!”

Blackjack is just a game of luck, so statistically, Bucky should eventually win. But over and over again, you’re the winner. It doesn’t matter who deals, you win every single time.

“Okay doll, these cards are rigged somehow.” Bucky says, going to grab another deck.

You hope he doesn’t notice how pink your cheeks are from that nickname, because you could listen to him call you doll all day long.

Bucky switches out the deck four more times, and he only wins three times. He’s just glad they didn’t bet any money.

* * *

Finally, the group sees an opportunity to beat you.

“You guys ready?” Natasha asks.

“Wait,” you hold up a hand, cocking your head like a puppy and Bucky smiles at the adorable movement, “Explain the rules one more time.”

Sighing, Natasha goes over the rules of poker for the third time, and this time, you write them down.

Bucky knows there is no way you can win this. Poker is all about two things: bluffing (you’re a terrible liar) and math (you suck at math). Adding that to the fact that every couple of seconds you’re checking the rules that you had written down, the whole table (Natasha, Tony, Steve, Sam, and Bucky) are confident you can’t win. Wanda and Vision were disqualified because she could tell who was bluffing without trying, and he's a computer.

But by the end, everyone has folded except you and Bucky. You sit there, looking confident, as you raise him.

The game goes on until Bucky realizes that you can’t bluff for anything, and must have something good so he folds.

“Okay doll, show us your cards.”

You lay them down on the table, revealing a 2 and a 7, “Hold up, you were bluffing?!” Sam yells.

Even Natasha looks stunned, wondering how she could have missed that.

“H-how?” Bucky stammers.

You simply gave him a smug smile, "Oh Barnes...there's so much you don't know about me."

As you walked away from the table, all Bucky could think about was how much he wanted to get to know you.

  
  



	4. PowerPoint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have some new rules when it comes to visiting the infirmary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU CAN'T SEE PICTURES, CHECK NOTES AT BOTTOM!
> 
> and yes, I made a whole ass PowerPoint, cause I'm that bored in quarantine

Bucky blinked as you walked into the conference room where the other Avengers (minus Thor) sat. He didn’t want to be creepy, but you looked so incredible, he couldn’t stop staring.

Dressed in a powder blue silk pantsuit, with a white shirt underneath, you commanded the room as you loaded up a PowerPoint onto the TV at the front of the room.

Peter groaned, lifting his head up from the table, “I just got done with school where I had to take notes on so. Many. PowerPoints. Can I please go?”

He stood but you stopped him with a glare, “No. This is a mandatory presentation. For _everyone_.”

The PowerPoint loaded and everyone flushed red at the title, the room completely silent.

“See, lately, some people have been taking my presence here for granted. So I realized that there needed to be rules set in place.”

You tapped your laptop’s trackpad to go to the next slide.

“If you sustain an injury that is about to kill you, or you have just ingested poison and are on death’s door, _then_ you may visit me!” 

“Is the skull and crossbones really necessary?” Tony asked.

Spinning towards him, you glared, “ _Yes,”_ you hissed.

Tony shut up.

“If you have some sort of injury that will keep you out of the field or will cause you great pain, or will greatly affect you (such as a lost finger or something else), there’s another great reason to see me!” Though you had a broad smile on your face, there was a manic look in your eye that made everyone wary of eye contact.

“Now a few of you have been good about this. Those who were good will get a gold star!”

Pulling out a sheet of stickers more commonly used for kindergarteners, you went around and put one on Steve’s forehead, Bruce’s hand, Vision’s shoulder, and Bucky’s chest. As you put the sticker on him, you felt his strong chest muscles and resisted the urge to rip off his shirt and feel him up in front of everyone. 

“Hey, the Vision one isn’t fair! He never needs to visit the infirmary!” Clint protested.

“Clint, I’d advise you to not talk right now,” you said, as Natasha kicked him.

“Here’s the thing. I’m a person, and while I do have this ability, it drains me. Particularly when I’m constantly using it on mundane things. Such as…”

“I don’t have time for paper cuts. You don’t need me to heal paper cuts.” Now you were glaring right at Clint who was cowering in his chair.

“Steve and I agreed on this point especially. Pain should not be easily erased, or else you forget what you can truly do to one another. Unless your training injury is life-threatening, you stay that way for twelve hours, or until you have a mission, whichever comes first.”

The slideshow ended and you turned to face the team, “Now I have a sticker for the person who has been the worst. A frowny face sticker.”

The whole team of mighty heroes paled at the prospect of receiving a frowny face sticker like children. You walked around the conference room table once, stopping at Natasha who froze, before continuing on again, and finally stopping at Clint.

“The frowny face sticker goes to you.” You said, sticking it on his cheek, “And it will stay there for the rest of the day under penalty of not being healed at all.”

While you couldn’t do that, Clint didn’t need to know that and nodded at you, fear in his eyes.

“Okay, class dismissed!”

As everyone shuffled out of the room, looking thoroughly shamed, Bucky paused by the doorway, “Thanks for the sticker,” he said, standing there awkwardly.

“Thanks for being so great,” you said, looking down at the floor.

_God, get it together Y/N! You’re acting like a schoolgirl with a crush!_

As Bucky went to leave, you grabbed his arm, surprising both yourself and him, “You know, you’re allowed to come down to the infirmary just to chat, you know, if I’m not busy.”

Bucky smiled at you, a big grin that made your heart flutter, “I’d like that.”

As he left you resisted the urge to squeal like a little kid in a candy store. But you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a mini version of your happy dance.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PICTURE 1–"Valid Reasons to Visit the Infirmary"  
> PICTURE 2–"Reason One: Life Threatening Injury" with a skull and crossbones and a cartoon grim reaper on the slide  
> PICTURE 3–"Reason Two: Debilitating Injury" with a stock photo of a woman sitting on a couch, looking sad  
> PICTURE 4–"Not Valid Reasons to Visit the Infirmary"  
> PICTURE 5–"Reason One: Minor Injuries" with a band-aid png  
> PICTURE 6–"Reason Two: Training Injuries" with a picture of a UFC fighting octagon


	5. Needles and Thread

“Son of a bitch!” You shrieked, clutching your hand.

Bucky came into the kitchen at that moment and saw you holding your hand, blood pouring out.

“What happened?!” Bucky asked, already moving to your side.

“Oh nothing, just slipped with the knife. It’s nothing, really.”

Pulling your other hand off of the wound, Bucky let out a low whistle, “That’s not nothing. That’s a pretty deep cut. Sit here and I’ll stitch it up for you.”

Backing away you shook your head, “Nuh-uh. You’re not bringing a needle anywhere near this body! I’ll just put a band-aid on it!” A panicked laugh began to spill out of you, the concern on Bucky’s face growing as he watched your mania.

Standing up, he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you down the hall into his room, pushing you on the bed and turning to his bedside table.

“A little forward, huh? You haven’t even taken me out to dinner!” 

“Yeah, you’re loopy from the blood loss. You’re letting me stitch you up, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Taking your hand in his, Bucky gently cleaned out the wound and began stitching it up, his hands moving the needle gracefully.

“How’d you learn how to do this so well?” You asked, “Let me guess, patching up Steve?”

“Actually, no. But I’ll only tell you if you promise not to tell anyone,” Bucky said, and you nodded solemnly.

“When I was a kid, I used to help my mom sew clothes. Sometimes it would be something as small as patching up a pair of pants, or helping her make my sister a new dress. I just got better at using a needle on a person when Steve kept on being a little righteous idiot.”

“Why are you embarrassed? That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard!” You squealed, trying to ignore the needle moving through your skin.

A blush spread over Bucky’s cheeks as he tried harder to focus on the task at hand, “Sam and Tony would never let up. They would tease me constantly. And….done!”

Examining your hand, you nodded at him, “Okay, that wasn’t too bad. Now help me finish my pancakes!”

“What?!” Bucky said, astounded, “How the fuck did you cut your hand making pancakes?”

“Because I’m a very skilled and coordinated individual with an abundance of talents. Now help me make pancakes or I swear on my own future grave I will rip these stitches out right now and bleed on your bed!”

It was the sound of the laughter coming from the kitchen that woke the rest of the team up, and the smell of pancakes that got them out of bed. But the little glances and whispers that you and Bucky shared while the team watched you finish cooking had them all talking and placing bets on when you two would finally get together.


	6. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team–especially Bucky–wants to know why you refuse to swim, or even take off your coverup by the pool.

Tony had just put in a new outdoor swimming pool on the compound and was throwing a pool party to celebrate, with the express instructions: **NO CHILDREN ALLOWED**. To which Natasha had said that it was rude to exclude Clint.

You had already told Tony you would go, since you had no excuse you could think of. You couldn’t use work as an excuse against your boss, you had just had a dentist appointment a week ago, Bruce was your doctor, and you didn't have any friends in this part of New York. There was no viable excuse.

You had a bikini that you loved, one that showed off your curves. No, it wasn’t your weight that you were uncomfortable with. 

But maybe you didn’t have to swim. Maybe you could just lounge by the pool, keep your coverup on. 

Walking outside into the bright sun, your eyes shielded by cat-eye sunglasses, you saw the team already gathered. Natasha lay out on a lounge chair, an empty one beside her, saved for you. Sam and Steve seemed to be having a friendly–but heated–argument about something, while Tony stood on the other side of the pool with Clint and Bruce, talking and obviously boring poor Clint to tears. Vision and Wanda stood in the corner, talking softly, only like two people in love can. Bucky sat by the bar, watching Sam and Steve’s argument with an amused smirk.

While you were drawn to Bucky, wanting nothing more than to go by him and talk, you were scared that the longer you stood up, the more likely it would be that someone would try and convince you to go swimming.

Instead you headed over to where Natasha was beckoning you, lying down on the lounge chair. You raked your eyes over the redhead’s body, whistling appreciatively, “Damn _mami_ , you look good!” 

“So do you. Here, I got you a drink,” Natasha nudged a margarita your way, which you took with a grin.

“Have I told you that you’re an angel recently?”

“You don’t tell me enough,” Natasha arched her back, like a cat in a sunbeam, and you watched with envy. You wished you could do that, take off your coverup and bask fully in the warmth of the sun. 

You lay out in the sun, drinking margarita after margarita. Soon your head felt heavy and your words were slurred.

Looking up, you saw Natasha, Clint, Sam, and Steve playing volleyball in the pool. Tony and Bruce had migrated to the bar, while Vision and Wanda had disappeared, most likely to fool around, like teenagers in love.

_How did sex with those two work? Did Vision have a penis? Did he even have an interest in sex? Is he just a Ken doll down there?_

You sat up with a shock, needing to go to Tony and find out the answer when you saw something shiny out of the corner of your eye and turned toward it.

“Bucky! Buckaroo! Bucky Bear!” The supersoldier smiled and simultaneously winced at your volume.

That was you, too much alcohol and you became loud and silly, as well as affectionate. Standing up, you swayed towards the lounge chair that Bucky sat on, “Do you know what sucks?” You asked him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

An amused smile graced his lips as he looked down on you, “No, what sucks?”

“That I wanna swim and I wanna be covered in the sun, but I can’t….no siree bob, I cannot!”

Bucky’s features morphed into a confused look, “Whaddya mean, doll?”

You went to answer until a song started blasting through the speakers. Mala Santa by Becky G. 

“Finally, Tony put on my request!” You stood up, pulling Bucky with you. Your hips swayed as you danced to the music, even attempting to twerk in your drunken and wobbly state. 

“No soy ni mala ni santa!” You sang, stumbling, but Bucky caught you. At this point everyone was watching you with amused looks on their faces.

“I wanna swim!” You said again, whining like a petulant child.

“Then come swim!” Natasha said, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the pool.

Bursting from the water, you gasped like a drowned rat, as your sunglasses sunk to the bottom of the pool. The coldness had shocked your system, and while you weren’t entirely sober, you were definitely coming to your senses.

You quickly climbed out of the pool, and as Natasha asked what was wrong, you only shot her a cold glare.

“I’m going inside to change,” you said.

“Why don’t you just take off your coverup so your bathing suit will dry, doll?” Bucky suggested, taking your arm gently.

You flung his arm off, spinning around wildly, sparks flying from your eyes, “I’m not your doll! So stop calling me that! Everybody just leave me alone!”

Stunned silence met the pool as you stomped off inside, hugging yourself and shivering against the cold. 

Bucky just stood there, trying to pretend his eyes weren’t stinging, trying to pretend that your words didn’t hurt.

* * *

You sat curled up on your bed, wearing only a bralette and athletic shorts, a soft blanket covering you.

_God, that was so stupid. You were cold to Natasha, you yelled at Bucky, and you were rude to everyone. Not to mention you got completely drunk and made a fool of yourself. You’re gonna get fired._

These thoughts swirled around in your brain, as tears spilled from your eyes. Clutching a pillow, you sobbed.

_Bucky must hate me now. He’s never going to want to talk to me. Hell, none of them are going to want to talk to me._

Your bedroom door cracked open and you could see a familiar supersoldier silhouette.

“Go away Steve, I don’t need a pep talk right now,” you cried, sniffles coming from you as a bubble of snot popped on your nose.

“It’s not Steve, do–” Bucky cut himself off, not wanting to offend you. When you heard him stop in the middle of calling you doll, you let out another sob. God, you just ruined everything.

“What do you want Bucky?” Your voice was muffled under your covers and the blanket. 

Bucky sat on the bed, right where your body curled into his. Facing away from you, he put his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong Y/N? Are you scared of swimming? Is that it?”

Tears sprang to your eyes once more. You hated how every time you started crying, once you had started every little thing made you cry, “No, I love swimming.”

He sighed, sounding more exhausted than ever, “Then what is it?”

You had never been so scared. He would think you were disgusting, ugly, he would never want to be with you. But you had no more excuses, nothing else left to say.

You stood up slowly, coming in front of him, and then turned around, exposing your back. You heard Bucky let out a breath, exposing his shock.

“When they were experimenting on me, trying to make me...what I am, they did this. They had this theory that causing me pain would make their formula work...would cause the ability to manifest.”

Scars criss-crossed your back. Some from what looks like a belt, others from knives, and others burns. They went from the tops of your shoulders to your lower back.

Bucky didn’t have to ask who _they_ were. Neither Tony nor yourself had ever said how you had your abilities. But Bucky knew the cruelty of HYDRA and their methods better than anyone.

He didn’t ask how you had ended up in their orbit, how you had become free, or how you had ended up on the Avengers radar. He just grabbed your hand to spin you around.

“Y/N,” he whispered your name, “you didn’t need to hide this.”

“They’re disgusting...I’m disgusting.”

Hearing you say that, Bucky wanted to go find every person who had hurt you, who had told you this lie, and rip them limb from limb. But he pushed down his anger and cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him instead of the floor.

“You’re beautiful.”

A small gasp escaped your lips, a little puff of air that Bucky wouldn’t have noticed except for the fact that he felt it tickle his face. You both locked eyes, and for a moment there was no one else. No Avengers, no HYDRA, no world to protect. Only each other.

But you remembered the sad truth. You were here because of your job, and you couldn’t risk that. No matter how much you wanted the man in front of you.

Backing up, you stared back at the ground, “Thank you Bucky.”

Blinking at you as if he was coming back to Earth, Bucky nodded and stood, “Don’t forget what I said, do–I mean, Y/N.”

As he exited your room, you stopped him, “Bucky?”

He looked back at you, raising an eyebrow, “Am I not your doll?” You asked innocently, a small smile gracing your lips.

A broad smile returned to his face, “Of course you are.”

He closed the door behind him and you flopped onto the bed. Maybe you couldn’t let yourself be with him, but you could allow yourself this one small thing. You could be his doll.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm cruel! But the Reader and Bucky will soon be admitting their feelings, just be patient!


	7. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his near death experience, will you be able to confess your feelings? To confront your true fears?

Your fingers drummed at your side as you tried to calm yourself. Glancing at the clock again you couldn’t help but feel the panic rise in your throat, the familiar sense of short breaths and tears.

But this was no time for a panic attack, not when everything was on the line.

Finally the door of the infirmary burst open and Sam and Steve rushed in, carrying a limp Bucky.

“Put him on the table,” you commanded, your voice shaking just a little bit, “let me see it.”

There it was, his right arm. Ending in a stump at the elbow. Steve was clutching the table, great, heaving sobs coming from the large man.

“Steve, I need you to move.”

The man was frozen, as if he couldn’t hear you, but Sam grabbed his friend and pulled him out of the way, tears in his own eyes. As much as Sam and Bucky argued and made fun of each other, they were best friends too. And neither Sam nor Steve wanted to lose him.

“He’s lost a lot of blood, too much for me to help him right now. I’m going to temporarily seal the wound on his arm so I can heal it later and stimulate blood production,” as you spoke, your fingers moved, causing skin to grow and seal up the wound.

“We’ll sedate him, keep him unconscious and when he has enough blood I’ll open the wound and regrow the limb. But I need you two to leave so I can sedate Buc–Sergeant Barnes.”

You couldn’t be familiar now, couldn’t let your feelings come through. Right now it wasn’t Bucky on your table. It was Sergeant James Barnes, a man you didn’t know, because you had to keep a clear head.

While Steve was still silent, unable to say anything, Sam nodded and led the supersoldier out of the room.

After they left and you had put the IV in his leg since his arm wasn’t a viable option, you finally allowed the tears to come. He had lost so much blood and when they delivered him to you, you had felt his life force waning, fighting to hold on.

_He’s safe, he’s fine, he’s going to be okay._

* * *

It had been three hours of painstakingly detailed work. Making sure each muscle, nerve, bone, was perfectly in place. You almost cried in relief when you reached the fingers. Fingers were easy to regrow, simple.

Now you just sat there, waiting for the sedative to wear off, your head in your hands as you sat by the bed. Steve was on the other side, waiting, his leg hadn’t stopped bouncing ever since he had arrived. Terror still filled him, and you couldn't help but feel pity for the man.

“When I was fifteen, my little sister got into a car accident,” you said, the words spilling out before you knew they were coming, needing to calm the man sitting across the room. “They took her into surgery, and we were in the waiting room for hours upon hours. Just sitting there, not knowing what was happening, not knowing if she was going to be okay.”

Steve was quiet, his jaw firmly set as he listened, fists clenched by his sides, “I almost lost my sister that day. But Bucky’s okay. You’re not going to lose your brother.”

Steve let out a breath, “I know, I know that he’s okay. But seeing him like that, lifeless and pale. I couldn’t stop thinking about the first time–”

Steve trailed off, unable to finish. He didn’t need to, because you knew he was thinking about the fall from a train all those decades ago, “He’s my brother, Y/N. We’ve been through so much together, and the thought of losing him…”

Silence fell upon the two of you again, peaceful amid the storm inside you.

* * *

“You shouldn’t wait to tell people how you feel,” Steve spoke up, startling you as you continued to wait. Glancing up, you saw him staring right at you.

Your cheeks flushed red, “I don’t-I mean, y-you–”

“I’m not blind Y/N, and neither is the rest of the team. The only one who hasn’t figured it out is the big lunk passed out right there. And I know Buck, and I know that he feels–”

You held up a hand, cutting him off, “I’m here doing my job, and I can’t risk that for anything. I can’t risk being put out, being vulnerable to _them_.”

Steve scoffed at your reasoning but didn’t say anything else, letting both of you sink back into silence.

* * *

Finally, after another hour, Bucky stirred, looking around the room blearily, “Wha’ happened?”

Steve rocketed to his feet but before he could do anything, you had already jumped onto the poor man, wrapping your arms around his neck, “ _Pendejo!_ You scared me!”

Bucky let out a low laugh, winding his arms around your back, “I’m sorry doll. I’ll try not to next time.”

Steve watched with an amused smirk on his face, “Do you remember what happened Buck?”

Slowly, you got off of the man, but still stood close to the bed, almost as if shielding him, “No. The last thing I remember was we were almost out and then a bunch of those bastards sprung out from nowhere.”

He looked himself over as if trying to see where he had been wounded, “What did they do to me? Why are you guys so worried?”

You grabbed his right arm and pointed to his elbow, “They sliced your arm off right here. You lost a lot of blood and alm–” you stopped, trying to hold in the sob that threatened to escape.

“You almost died Buck,” Steve said, staring at the man with tears in his eyes.

The realization hit Bucky like a bus as he took in a deep breath, “Well I’m still here, aren’t I?”

For some reason that sparked something in you, a sense of anger as you stormed out of the room, unable to stay in there any longer, unable to look at the man who had almost died. Unable to pretend you didn’t feel anything.

* * *

You sat alone at the kitchen table. As if they could sense the anxiety and anger radiating off of you, everyone had given you a wide berth.

The clock on the stove blinked the time back at you. 1:02. But you weren’t tired. Probably because of the strong coffee sitting in front of you, the scent wafting up and reminding you of home.

_Saturday mornings, being woken up by the loud sounds of music blasting from the living room. Sometimes merengue, sometimes bachata, sometimes reggaeton._

_Your door being thrown open as your mother danced into the room, ripping the covers off you and preventing you from feigning sleep._

_“Up, mi niña linda! Time to clean!”_

_She’d have your sister sweeping and you scrubbing baseboards. Why did you need to scrub baseboards anyway? It’s not like anyone ever walked into your home and immediately started inspecting the baseboards._

_And afterwards she’d bring you and herself a cup of coffee, and you’d sit at the kitchen table and talk as your sister trudged wearily back to her room, hoping to get back to sleep._

You broke yourself out of the memory, it only being a stark reminder of how alone you really were, and how you could never go back to those days.

“Hey doll,” a voice said from behind you, before taking the seat beside you.

You didn’t even look over at him, “Why are you angry with me?” He asked, sounding broken.

It wasn’t that you were angry, but that you were scared. 

Scared of what would happen if you opened your mouth. Scared of the confessions that would pour out. Scared of losing him, of seeing him brought in like that. Scared of the way he made you feel. Scared that if you let yourself love him, you’d lose him.

“I’m not mad,” you didn’t say anything else, but that was enough to let Bucky sit beside you in silence, until he broke it.

“You regrew my arm today. That’s pretty im–” you cut him off, turning to him with a sad look.

“Don’t Bucky. Don’t ask what you want to ask.”

Sadness filled his eyes as he looked at you, “How do you know what I want to ask?”

You searched for the words, trying to tell him without hurting him too deeply, “Did you know I can feel everything? The breath pulsing through your lungs, the blood pumping through your veins, the beating of your heart. I can feel _you_. I can feel the life force of everyone around me. But sometimes things die. I can’t heal dead things. I can’t grow what isn’t alive anymore.”

He didn’t need you to elaborate. His arm was beyond fixing, beyond your capabilities.

“I’m so sorry Bucky. When I first got here I thought maybe it was possible. I tried to sense something, _anything_ that I could help, but…”

“Like you said doll, I’m beyond fixing.”

Without even thinking, you grabbed his face, pulling him towards you, “No. Don’t say that because it’s not true. Your arm isn’t you. What _they_ did, it isn’t you. Because if you say that their actions define you, that how they hurt you defines you, well what does it mean for me?”

Bucky could hear the brokenness in your voice, the emptiness you felt inside that you tried so hard to hide. He recognized it as the same thing he felt.

And then he realized that you were still holding his face to yours, your breath fanning across his face, the perfume on your wrists wafting to his nose.

Staring in your eyes he felt himself get lost. He leaned in, before gently pressing his lips to yours. Without thinking, you responded.

The two of you sat there, lost in the feel and taste of one another until you were forced to pull away for air.

Bucky let out a low breath, “That was...something, doll.”

“I should go,” you said, panicking. God, there were cameras everywhere. Soon Tony would know and you would probably be fired. Kicked out of your new home, at the whim of HYDRA once again.

“Wait, Y/N, wait!” Bucky called after you, but it was too late. You were down the hall and behind your locked door before he could do anything to change your mind.

As you sunk down against your door, you heard footsteps pad up outside. Someone slid down and sat against the other side of the door.

Tentatively, you touched your fingers to your lips, wanting to remember that feeling forever. Pressed to the door you yearned to reach out to the man on the other side but fear, that ever present bitch, held you back. 

HYDRA still had their grip on you after all this time, and you wondered if the fear they had instilled in you would ever go away.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> pendejo-asshole
> 
> I had the Reader's mom call her "mi niña linda" cause that's what my mom calls me, so there's a little thing about me and my mom! Her little nickname for me (sort of a nickname, sort of just her calling me pretty, but whatever)


	8. Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After someone attacks the Avengers, you and Bucky have a moment, and your past come back to haunt you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h/c=your hair color

“I’m pretty sure the universe is plotting just to make my life miserable,” you whined, standing next to Natasha at the bar.

Tony was throwing one of his charity galas, and while you were happy to be here and show your support, you couldn’t help but stare at one certain supersoldier across the room and the woman he was so eagerly flirting with.

“It’s not the universe, it’s just you two being stupid, сучка,” Natasha teased.

“You’re not allowed to be mean to me, I’m sad,” you said, now giving Bucky a death-stare.

Natasha laughed and grabbed your arm, pulling you away from where you could see Bucky and into a booth in the corner of the room. 

You had felt sexy when you had entered the room. Wearing a stunning deep-red designer dress that Tony had been kind enough to purchase, it clung to your skin, showing off your curves. Your (h/c) hair was curled and the gold jewelry made you stand out in the best way.

Ever since that night in the kitchen when you had pushed him away, you had tried to catch Bucky’s attention, to talk, to reclaim that moment. But he had been avoiding you and the bastard had even managed to stay uninjured enough that he didn’t need to visit you.

It was then that Sam made his way over to the two of you, carrying a bottle of tequila. Immediately you brightened and reached for the bottle like a child for candy, “Gimme, gimme, gimme!”

Sam laughed and held the bottle out of your reach, “I don’t know if you should have any, you lush.”

“One time, Sammy, one time! A girl can’t get drunk anymore?”

Sammy finally conceded the bottle, allowing you to pour yourself a cup. Natasha declined, not liking tequila very much.

Steve began to come over and you smiled at the man until you realized who he was dragging along with him and your mood immediately dampened, “Sam, we’re gonna need more alcohol,” you said, nudging him.

Steve and Bucky slid into the booth beside Nat, putting Bucky directly across from you. Glaring at the man who had been ignoring you the past couple of days, you took a sip of your drink.

The group felt the awkwardness and Sam tried to speak up, “Have any of you talked to the new receptionist, Olivia? She’s really nice.”

“Can it Wilson,” you growled, tossing back the rest of your drink and trying to ignore how it burned, not wanting to give the smirking man across the table the satisfaction of your stupidity.

“Y/N?” someone asked, and you looked up. Squealing with delight, you nearly knocked Sam onto the floor in your haste to get out of the booth.

“Alejandro, what are you doing here?”

“I’m a photographer for the Times, remember? They sent me here with a reporter to do a piece on the event. But what about you, working for the Avengers? Being all successful and shit!”

You hugged him, “I’ve missed you,”

Alejandro nodded, agreeing, “There was a time when none of us thought we’d see you again.”

The both of you were solemn before you smacked his arm, “Stop trying to make me sad!”

The man smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, and as the two of you chatted, the Avengers behind you were busy studying your interaction, especially one blue-eyed man.

The music changed at that point, from an older waltz to the familiar beat of merengue. For once, the weight of the mistake you had made with Bucky was forgotten, carried away on the notes of the music.

“Alejandro, we have to dance!” You said, jumping up and down, “C’mon, it’s been so long since I danced like this! I miss the parties!”

Though he sighed, Alejandro relented, letting you pull him onto the dance floor. The two of you danced, your hips swaying back and forth as you laughed and talked, letting him spin you. But the song ended and Alejandro kissed your cheek, needing to get back to actually doing his job.

As you came back to the table, Natasha raised an eyebrow, “Who was that handsome guy? An ex perhaps, coming back for more?”

Your jaw dropped, even as you didn’t notice that a growl had started in Bucky’s throat, “What? No! Ew! That’s my cousin!” You gagged a little, “I haven’t seen him in person in a while and so I wanted to catch up! But his coworker is over there and he has to keep working, so I told him to find me before he leaves.”

The team was startled. You rarely spoke about your family and to their knowledge hadn’t visited them since you had begun working at the compound. But Bucky began to laugh, though there was no humor in it.

“What?” you asked, turning on him.

“Then what the fuck was that out there? Dancing with him, your hips moving like that?” Bucky rolled his eyes, “Talk about Sweet Home Alabama.”

Your teeth gritted together as you grabbed Bucky’s glass from the table and threw it in his face, the Asgardian mead stinging his eyes, “It’s called merengue, you ass. It’s what we do, it’s how we dance. You don’t get to ignore me one minute and then practically call me a whore the next because I’m not dancing with you.”

Standing up from the table you went to go find somewhere else, away from the drunk and hurtful man sitting there.

As you walked away from the table, Nat trying to follow you the crowd, an explosion went off, knocking you backwards and the world went black.

* * *

The ceiling above you was moving, lights seeming to flicker. You could tell you were moving, someone carrying you. The ceiling became more familiar and you realized you were in the infirmary. Everything around you sounded like it was underwater.

There was a sharp, fiery pain in your chest and you tried to sit up, but felt someone push you back down onto a table.

“Why can’t she just–” Bucky’s voice was panicked, more distressed than you’d ever heard it.

“For the last time, she can’t heal herself Bucky!” Natasha practically shrieked, sounding like she was falling apart.

“Well someone do something, goddammit!” Bucky yelled, and then it sounded like he had knocked something over.

“Steve, get them out of here,” Bruce said, and you saw his face and a Korean woman’s over you, “It’s okay Y/N, you’re gonna be okay.”

You tried to speak, to call out for Bucky, but the world faded in front of you once more, the last sound you heard your own dim heartbeat.

* * *

When you woke up, you were in a hospital bed, machines beeping beside you. Trying to sit up, you gasped in pain, causing the man beside you to look up.

“Don’t sit up Y/N, you’re still healing,” Alejandro stood up, coming to the other side of you.

“What happened to me?” Your head was spinning as you tried to piece together the night.

“There was a bomb, someone trying to take out one of the Avengers. Luckily you weren’t too close, but some shrapnel struck you in the chest and…God, you almost died!”

You didn’t know if it was the shock, but the irony was not lost on you. Just two weeks earlier, you had been Alejandro, panicking about how Bucky had almost died. And now you were the one in the hospital bed, the one who had almost stopped breathing for good.

“They didn’t let me see you at first, they had to clear me from the list of suspects. But everyone’s so worried about you. Abuelita would have come all the way up here if they would have let her in.”

“Please, she would have forced her way in. For such a frail old woman, she’s terrifying,” the two of you laughed at the shared memories of chancletas and force feeding until you noticed a shadow outside the room through the translucent windows.

“Who’s out there?” 

“Sergeant Barnes. He’s been waiting outside ever since they started working on you. He won’t come in, not that I’m complaining. That is one intimidating guy.”

The thought of Bucky, standing guard outside your room made your heart swell, “Can you ask him to come in here?”

Your cousin nodded, going out to grab Bucky. When both men walked back in, you looked pointedly at Alejandro, “Can you give us a moment?”

Alejandro seemed reluctant to leave, looking at Bucky suspiciously, “Ale, you did this at my quince, you don’t get to do it now,”

With a sigh, your cousin left, giving you a small smile on his way out. As soon as he was gone, Bucky opened his mouth to talk but you stopped him with a raised hand.

“No. I’m the one in the hospital bed, I’m the one who gets to talk,” Bucky conceded with a small smirk, nodding for you to continue.

“I lied. To you, to myself. I tried to tell myself that the reason I couldn’t be with you was because of my job, that I could be fired. But that wasn’t true. I’m not stupid enough to think that I’m that disposable to you guys,” you took a deep breath, your fingers twisting together as you tried to find the words.

“I was scared. Scared to let myself be vulnerable, scared to open up. The last person I dated really hurt me. It’s not something I’m ready to tell you, or anyone, for that matter. But I was scared that if I opened myself up, let myself love you, then I would get hurt again. But you’re not him. And it took me almost getting blown up to see that, so I guess I’m stupid. And I know I hurt you, and I understand if you don’t want to ever talk to me again, but–”

Bucky grabbed your hands, which had been flailing around as you talked, steadying you, “Okay, I’m talking now,” he said with a smirk and you nodded, trying to calm yourself.

“Of course I want to talk to you. Y/N, ever since I saw you in the infirmary, all I wanted was you. Every time I talk to you, I feel ten times better. You make me better, happier. Doll, I’m in love with you,” he said, eyes bright and full of hope, “Is it okay if I kiss you now?” 

With a laugh, you nodded and cupped his neck, bringing his face to yours. It wasn’t until you heard a wolf whistle from the doorway that the two of you separated.

Sam and Natasha stood there, both of them with matching smirks on their faces, watching the two of you, “By all means, don’t stop because of us,” Natasha said.

“Perv,” you laughed.

The rest of the team filed in along with Alejandro, all of you laughing and joking, until FRIDAY came over the speaker system, “Sir, facial recognition software located an agent of HYDRA who attended the gala last night.”

“Why wasn’t this guy questioned?” Tony asked.

“It appears he left before the explosion went off. There is no identity linked to his face, but he has been seen at a HYDRA base on one previous mission, where he fled,”

“What mission?” Steve asked.

“Mission 8A329J,” FRIDAY said. “The mission in question was to rescue enhanced beings being held captive by HYDRA. Only one such being was able to be rescued, Y/N Y/L/N, current medic to the Avengers.”

Your blood went cold, “Let me see a picture of him.”

Bucky turned to you, concern written over his face, “Are you sure?”

You nodded, “I need to do this. Someone attacked me, us, innocent people. If I know anything about him, and I don’t do anything? I can’t do that Bucky.”

Tony nodded at you, “FRIDAY, bring up the picture of the agent in question.”

The wall in front of you transformed into a screen, where you saw a face you thought you’d never see again, “No!” you gasped, horrified, before your world went black for the second time in twenty-four hours.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> сучка: bitch
> 
> And yes, I've had two near-death experiences back to back. My brain is a plethora of ideas


	9. Gemini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finds out more of the reader's past, though at what cost to the reader herself?

You sat on the couch in the living room of the compound, the whole team looked at you patiently, Bucky sitting beside you as you grasped his hand tightly. Alejandro had been told he had to leave due to the sensitive matter of the material that would be discussed.

Natasha was the first person to speak up, “Y/N, are you ready to tell us what you know about the agent?”

Taking a deep breath, you managed to look up at the picture that was projected in front of you, “When HYDRA took me, I was in college, in the middle of my second semester, junior year. Everything had been great in my life up to that point. My grades were good, I had an internship lined up for the summer that could potentially land me my dream job after graduation, and I had been dating the most amazing guy. His name was Robert Adams, and I thought he was the person I would spend the rest of my life with. I was that in love with him,” as you spoke, the familiar pain that came up every time you thought about Robert. Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, you forced down the demons and continued.

“He had just taken me out to dinner, and we were coming back to his apartment, when a black van pulled up on the curb. Three men jumped out and grabbed both of us. Robert tried to fight them off, but they were too strong and when one of them put a gun to my head, he stopped. They knocked us out, and when I woke up, we were each tied to poles in opposite ends of a room. Both bleeding, scared out of our minds, but he kept trying to cheer me up. He said that they just wanted money and his parents could get it.”

The next part, you didn’t even think you could say it out loud. But you had to. They needed to know.

“Then two men came in, one of whom I would later learn was Alexander Pierce. The other I never learned the name of. They untied me and ordered me to strip. When I refused they laughed at me and dragged Robert out of the room. The last thing I heard before they knocked me out again was a gunshot.”

Memories of your screams, how you sobbed into the night, blaming yourself for his death. If you had only listened, if you hadn’t disagreed, if, if, if.

“It wasn’t until three days later, when they had finally beaten me into submission, that I learned the truth. When Robert came walking back into the room, being praised as a good HYDRA agent. He had been targeting me all along, based on my medical records and other stuff that somehow landed me on HYDRA’s radar. That’s the man on the screen. I don’t know if Robert is his real name, but they sent him after me for a reason. He knows me because I let him in.”

You felt Bucky’s hand tighten around yours, and you squeezed his back, trying not to break down in front of everyone. You had let this man into your heart, told him things you had never told anyone, and he had betrayed you in the worst possible way.

“Did they ever say his real name in front of you?” Natasha asked.

You tried to think back to every moment during your capture that they had brought Robert in front of you and taunted you, or kept you weak and used him to manipulate you into doing whatever it was they wanted. But while none of those gave you anything, there was one memory from before it all that stood out.

_Stepping out of Robert’s shower you turned to grab a towel and wrap your hair up. Outside the bathroom you could hear Robert talking on a phone, but his words were too low to make out. As you entered his bedroom you could hear him ending the call._

_“Scott Harper is dead,” he said, sounding as if he was repeating a mantra to himself._

_“Who’s Scott Harper?”_

_He spun around, ending the call and smiling that winning smile at you._

_“This guy from high school. He was in a few of my classes.”_

_“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you two close?” Stepping closer to him, you placed a supportive hand on his back._

_“No, not really. Just knew the guy. Motorcycle accident though, which is weird since he never seemed like that type of guy. Sort of a nerd, ya’ know?”_ _  
  
_

“Scott Harper is dead,” you said, the team looking on confused, “Robert said it once, on the phone. At the time he told me it was an old classmate of his who had died, but the way he said it didn’t seem like he was telling someone or as if he was sad. He said it like he was trying to remind himself of the fact.”

“Could be his true identity,” Tony said, “Y/N, do you know how Scott died?”

“Motorcycle accident.”

FRIDAY immediately began scanning all possible databases for any Scott Harpers who had died after a motorcycle accident.

“There are twelve possible matches in the United States that work with the timeframe,” FRIDAY said.

“Pull up the pictures,” Tony ordered.

All of the pictures came up and you tried to maintain your composure when you saw his face and that stupid winning smile looking down on you.

“Open the file on Scott Harper of Charleston, South Carolina,” Steve said.

“No,” you said, surprising everyone, “No. I can’t–I can’t be in here for this. I need to leave,”

Springing up, you tore yourself from Bucky’s grip, fleeing the room as quickly as you could, the ghosts of Scott Harper and Robert Adams following you relentlessly.

* * *

“Y/N, are you in here?” The door to your bedroom opened as Bucky stepped into the room, finding you under a pile of blankets.

“I’m not doing it,” you said, trying to hide the shuddering sobs that has been pouring out of you.

“Darling, I know it’s hard, but if you want to be able to find this guy then you need to do this. You know the most about him.”

Tearing free of the blankets, you looked at Bucky, a wild look in your eyes, “I know _nothing_ about that man. _Nothing!_ Everything about him was a lie. His name, his past, his hopes, his dreams. I knew Robert Adams of Buffalo, New York. I knew Robert Adams, who had three older brothers and whose mom had died of breast cancer. I knew Robert Adams, who wanted two kids, a boy and a girl, and who wanted to live a small quiet life. I knew Robert Adams, who stood for justice and the truth, for equality. I knew Robert Adams, who spit on organizations like HYDRA. Scott Harper is somebody I don’t know.”

The way Bucky looked at you then made you want to go back under the blankets. The pity in his eyes was so powerful that you shut yours, unable to look at him without wanting to cry, “Buck, I can’t possibly go through his life. I can’t look through every piece of information we have on him because I don’t know how I’ll handle it. There’s a part of my stupid, stupid heart that still cares about Robert. Not Robert the HYDRA agent but the Robert who cared about me, who visited me when I was sick and yelled at my asshat of a professor for me. My dumb heart doesn’t know that he was a lie. And if I start digging through Scott Harper’s life, my heart might have to admit that, and it might finally give up.”

“Well we can’t have that, can we?” Bucky said, pulling the last remainders of the blankets off of you. “Doll, I’ll be right beside you for all of this. If you want me to hold your hand and let you cry, I’m there. If you want me to print out a picture of Scott’s face and put it on a punching bag for you, I’m there. If you want to scream obscenities, I’m there. Just let me know what you need.”

Without warning, you started crying again, “Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry! What did I say? Are you okay?”

Laughing, you wiped the tears from your eyes, “No, no. I’m fine. You’re wonderful. I think I’m ready.”

Letting Bucky pull you to your feet, you met his lips with yours, feeling the soft push and pull and getting lost in it.

“Hey lovebirds, are you two ready to catch an asshole?” Sam chimed in from the doorway.

“God Sam! How long were you there?” You asked, clutching a hand to your chest like a Southern belle.

“Not too long,” Sam said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I hate you,” Bucky said.

“Come on. I need a printer and a punching bag, and then we can get to work,” you said, grabbing Bucky’s hand to pull him along.

“Oh, we’re going with my second idea. Good, that was my favorite. Also, we’re going to need two punching bags because I want to hurt this guy too,” Bucky said.

“Guys, wait! What are you talking about?” Sam called, “I don’t know what it is that you’re doing, but I want to be included!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole "Scott Harper is dead" thing is loosely based on the "Lauren Reynolds is dead" scenes from Criminal Minds with Prentiss and Reid because I love Criminal Minds.


	10. One and the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You analyze the behavior of Scott/Robert, as well as study your own heart.

The door to the conference room had never felt heavier as you pushed it open. After a cathartic punching bag session with Bucky (and Sam, because he has serious FOMO), you felt sort of better about facing the Scott Harper files. But sort of better was still not enough. 

As if he could sense your trepidation, Bucky placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and squeezed. Natasha and Wanda had offered to stay with you while you looked through the files, but you knew there was only one person who you were ready to let see you be a huge mess. The person who had already seen you be a huge mess too many times.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly sat down at the table. In front of you was a glass of water, a bag of gummy bears, and a small note from Natasha in front.

“Y/N, are you ready to begin going through the file of Scott Harper?” FRIDAY asked.

Without responding, you ripped open the bag of gummy bears, bit the head off first so as to be merciful, popped the rest in and then spoke, “I guess.”

“Scott Harper was born in Charleston, South Carolina to Anne and Frank Harper. The youngest of three boys, his file throughout school indicated a sense to prove himself to his parents and peers. Regularly involved in fights and other altercations, as well as arguments with teachers, Scott Harper was expelled from his high school mid-sophomore year and transferred to the local disciplinary school, in which he became a model student. After graduation, he attended Vanderbilt University, intending to become a doctor. He dropped out after his freshman year and then…” FRIDAY fell silent.

“Hello? FRIDAY, what happened to him after he dropped out?” Bucky asked.

“Currently, I cannot find any information, but I am looking for it. Here. Three years after dropping out, Scott Harper is found on the side of the road in Tempe, Arizona. Covered with burns and cuts, as well as broken bones and bruises, he is admitted to the local hospital. In his file it is noted that he was ‘raving like a lunatic about Them and how he would find his way back to Them and Their great mission,’.”

“Them meaning HYDRA, right FRIDAY?” You asked, now twisting your hair tie anxiously between your hands.

“I cannot speculate on the nature of that without more facts, but logically it would only follow that you are correct.”

“Scott Harper moved to Pasadena, California, where he began work as a waiter at a small diner. After eight months, he disappeared again. The identity of Scott Harper never reappears after that. Two years later, the identity of Robert Adams appears in New York City, where he worked at the Columbia University bookstore, leading him to meet Y/N Y/L/N. Presumably he began a relationship with her in order to strengthen his identity.”

“FRIDAY, can you send all of this to my laptop?” You asked.

“Of course ma’am. Will that be all?”

“Yes.”

The screen went dark and grabbing the still full water glass, you hurled it at the wall. Glass broke apart and fell through endless space to the floor as you sat there breathing heavily, trying not to let the emotions spill out.

Bucky rushed to your side, but you moved away, “Please go.”

He didn’t ask for an explanation, but you couldn’t miss the hurt in his eyes as he left the room.

* * *

As you stood in front of the team two hours later, bile rose in your throat. A sick feeling had been following you around ever since you had gone to your room and begun dissecting every small detail of Scott Harper’s life. Awards he had won, sports he had played, friends he had made, trips he had taken. But the reason behind the feeling had yet to reveal itself to you.

“What can you tell us about Scott Harper?”

Swallowing now the bile, you spoke hesitantly, “He saw himself as lesser than. Among his family, his peers, and society. Most of this was either created by him or in his own head, his behavior according to FRIDAY’s analysis indicative of a narcissist. However he found HYDRA, they gave him a sense of power and an ability to wield it over others and be recognized. He needs them, if only for the power they give him.

“In our relationship, he made the plans, he bought me the gifts. We lived at his place, he paid the rent and bought the food. Whenever I tried to chip in, he refused. He almost seemed insulted. He wanted to be in control of the relationship, and this being my first real relationship, I ignored the red flags because just as I validated his need for a person to control, he validated my need for love and acceptance.”

Just then, you felt your stomach churn and the bile come surging up. Running to the corner, you grabbed the trash can and vomited into it, slumping onto the ground in defeat.

* * *

“Fuck off with your soup Rogers,” you grumbled, laying on the couch as the Backyardigans played on the TV.

“You can’t be sick,” Banner said, perplexed, stopping Steve from force-feeding you chicken noodle soup, “Your enhanced immune system would stop any natural illness.”

“I know what it is,” you said, “and it should be fine now.”

Bruce tried to ask you more questions, his scientist brain clearly working overtime, but Steve moved him away, sensing that Bucky wanted to talk to you privately.

“What happened?” He asked.

“God, it’s embarrassing,” you shoved your face into your hands, not able to look at Bucky.

“Tell. Me.” Bucky poked your stomach on each word, making you laugh at the slight tickle. A sigh escaped as you tried to explain the emotions in your mind.

“I feel just like him.”

“Who?”

“Robert, Scott, whoever. I sat here, and I used our relationship and my knowledge of him to dissect his brain. And then use that information against him. I’m acting just like him and it literally made me sick to my stomach.”

“No, you’re not like him. What we’re doing is necessary, needed–”

“That sounds like something HYDRA would say! I can’t condemn him and then act just like him!”

Standing up, you went to storm off to your room, knowing you were being irrational, knowing what Bucky was trying to say. But anger and pain filled your heart.

Pushing open the door to your room, a scream tore from your throat, blood-curdling and heart-stopping.

On your bed was the bloody and mangled corpse of Scott Harper.


	11. Safety Net

“How did this happen?” Bucky growled, his hand on your shoulder as he stared down Tony.

“Someone must have hacked into the system. The camera feed was on a loop, and FRIDAY’s sensory system was shut down.”

As the two of them argued, the rest of the team trying to calm each down, you stared straight ahead. A blanket was wrapped around your shoulders and you held onto it like your life depended on it. All you could see was his body, his ripped-to-shreds body. But there was another fact that sent chills down your spine.

“They were here,” you whispered, barely audible.

Everyone looked at you, concern all over their faces, “What?” Bucky asked, bending over to be at eye level, trying to stay calm for you.

“They were here. HYDRA was here. In my room, in our home!” You yelled, tears running down your cheeks, “I spent so long running for them and now they’re taunting me!”

“I don’t think it was just a taunt,” Natasha chimed in, “it was a message and their contingency plan. We start looking into Scott Harper and set off whatever alarms they had. Scott Harper was our main way into HYDRA and now he’s gone. They think they’re safe and we know we lost our lead.”

“They _think_ they’re safe?” You asked, “What do you mean?”

“They showed their hand. How could they have found their way into the tower?” Natasha asked, “The only way is if they had someone on the inside.”

You immediately stiffened, suddenly feeling trapped and surrounded. Anybody outside of this room could be a spy, a HYDRA operative.

“So you think one of my employees is working for HYDRA?” Tony asked.

Natasha nodded, “We just need to find out who.”

* * *

Disgruntled employees made their way out the door as each one of them were cleared. None of them were showing any signs of HYDRA and as you looked on, Bucky at your side, you felt the promise of safety moving further out of reach.

When there wasn’t a single employee left, you tried not to cry again. 

“How could they have gotten out?” Steve asked Tony, “The whole compound was in lockdown procedure. No one in or out.”

Not for the first time today, the billionaire looked flabbergasted, “It shouldn’t be possible, and yet here we are.”

“It has to be somebody with enough authority to move around the building.” Sam piped up.

“Or not,” Natasha said, going over the security feeds and pointing to one camera angle, before zooming in, “Look at this.”

Two cameras played side by side. A car pulling away with a man driving it on one. On the other was you, moments from discovering the body. Just as the truck was clearing security, you opened the door to your room and screamed.

“They timed this perfectly, getting out just before lockdown went into effect,” Steve said, looking slightly impressed.

“So how are we going to find them?” You asked.

FRIDAY chimed in, “I followed cameras to try and see where the car went. The license plate was stolen and the car disappeared.”

Everyone looked at you sadly, “I don’t think we can,” Bucky said.

The dam broke and you started to sob, all the anxiety and terror from the past couple of hours catching up with you. They were gone, there were no leads. How were you ever supposed to relax again? So you cried and cried as the team filed out and Bucky wrapped his arms around you, letting you scream and kick for as long as you needed.

When you fell asleep in his arms, exhausted, he carried you to his room, gently laying you on the bed and tucking you in.

The nightmare wasn’t over, but there was nothing they could do now. Just wait for the storm to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything obviously hasn't been resolved but for now, there's nothing to be done.


	12. 3am

Quietly, you stepped out of the bedroom and into the hallway, not wanting to wake anyone up. Stepping into the kitchen, you saw the microwave clock berate you with a 3am. But you couldn’t sleep anymore.

Unlike Bucky, who you had been told thrashed and called out when he had a nightmare (though you had yet to witness that for yourself), you simply stayed still, stuck in pure terror, until you woke up exhausted. And all your dreams lately had been filled with bloody corpses and unmarked vans, getaway trucks and scientists with that ugly symbol on their coats.

You knew if anyone saw you, they would send you right back to bed. You were still injured and were supposed to be resting. But how could you rest when the safest building in the world no longer felt safe?

Your feet carried you around the compound until you found yourself standing on a balcony, letting the cool night air kiss your face.

The rational part of your brain was telling you that you should talk with Bucky, unload some of your burdens. But there was that ever-present fear lingering in the back of your mind. Bucky already had so much baggage of his own, how could you be so selfish as to unload yours onto him? To add on to his pain?

As you stared up at the stars, trying to understand what was happening to you, a heartbeat popped up in your peripheral senses.

Turning, you saw Natasha approaching you, a cardigan in hand. She slid open the glass door, standing beside you silently and handing over the cardigan.

“I thought I was the only one who came out here this late...or early,” she said, giving you a lazy grin.

Slipping on the soft cardigan you sighed, “What has you up?”

Natasha knew you were trying to avoid talking about your own problems and wasn’t easily deterred, “The same thing I suspect has you up: nightmares.”

You wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, and not due to the temperature, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

She didn’t look over at you, instead choosing to stare off into the forest behind the compound, “I’m not asking you to tell me, but you need to tell someone. What about that handsome supersoldier you’re sharing a bed with, huh?” She gently nudged you with her shoulder.

“I can’t.”

“Seems pretty easy to me. All you have to do is open your mouth and talk.”

You turned to her, one eyebrow raised, an unamused expression on your face, “Want to tell me what your nightmares were about?”

Her smirk quickly changed into a blank expression, as she tried to hide the storm of emotions in her mind. Immediately you regretted what you had said, “I’m sorry. That was a low blow.”

“It was,” she said, but there was no bite in her tone, “Why can’t you share with him?”

Your fingernails dug into your arms as you spoke, an unhealthy habit that you couldn’t seem to break, “I’m not that selfish.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, just quirked an eyebrow at you in question, “They took me when I was twenty-one Natasha. They took five years of my life. But Bucky...seventy years. How am I supposed to dump everything I’m dealing with on him when he’s still trying to get through that?”

The redhead was silent for a moment, “I’m not going to tell you how to live your life, but all I’m saying is that that man is in love with you–don’t argue with me about it,” she said when you opened your mouth to protest, “He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off you since you first stepped in this building. And you’re right, he has a lot of baggage. But that’s what a relationship is, two people sharing their pain and building each other up. Believe me Y/N, you won’t drag him down with your pain. Don’t let fear stand in your way.”

You sighed, giving her a small smile, “Why is it that single people give the best relationship advice?”

“Oh, you’re in a relationship now?” Natasha teased, and you shoved her with your arm, but a smile remained on your face.

* * *

You slowly shut the door to Bucky’s bedroom as you crept back in, wanting to slip back into the bed before he woke up. Taking light steps across the floor, you ended up going all the way around the room as you tried to avoid stepping over things that you could’ve sworn weren’t there when you left, all to make it to the bed.

As soon as you reached the bed, Bucky’s eyes snapped open, causing you to let out a small shriek and flail backwards. Luckily, before you could land on your butt and bruise your tailbone, his arm shot out and pulled you onto him.

“How long were you awake?”

“I woke up when you left. I figured you needed some privacy,” he said, a smirk on his lips.

“Asshole,” you grumbled, laying your head on his chest, annoyed but grateful for the time he had given you.

“Do you wanna talk about what’s going on?” Bucky asked, not sounding accusatory, but instead concerned.

You didn’t sit up, content to stay where you were beside him. Natasha’s advice rang through your head, giving you the courage to be honest, “Nightmares.”

Bucky’s arm tightened around your body, holding you closer, “Do you want to talk about them?”

He had already asked a similar question, but he knew it was the only question you needed to hear right now. Thinking about it, you shook your head, “Not right now. Just don’t let me fall asleep. Tell me a story.”

Bucky hummed in acknowledgement, launching into a story about the worst date he had ever been on, a tale filled with strawberry milkshakes, a one-legged man named Winston, and ten feral cats.

As the two of you laughed until your stomachs hurt, across the country, a man in a hotel room flipped open a burner phone and dialed a number, speaking one word.

“ _Buria_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Natasha is the friend that you talk to, and outsiders think you're flirting with her (and you kind of are!).
> 
> Also, I know what you're thinking: I said the reader was 27 now and she was taken when she was 21, so shouldn't she have been with HYDRA for 6 years instead of 5? Nope-she was rescued at age 26, and the year in between will be explained someday!
> 
> I got the word BURIA from a book series–does anyone know which one? It's not super big, but it has a loyal fanbase!


End file.
